Page 74 of Somewhere Without You
I raised an eyebrow.
“What?” she said, grinning. “He was emotionally available and always happy to see me. What more can you ask for?”
“Okay. . .” I said warily. “I came in here worriedyou’dthink I was crazy, but now I’m starting to wonder ifyouare.”
Dani smiled. “That’s because itiscrazy—but just because something is crazy, doesn’t make it any less real.”
I thought of Gran and her so-calledspiritual nonsensethat turned half the town against us. I thought of Papa’s rocks, and the nights Katherine and I would lie in bed, listening to Gran whispering to someone who wasn’t there.
What if she hadn’t been crazy like everyone said? What if she was just more open in a world full of people too scared—or too stubborn, to see beyond what made them feel safe?
The phone rang on Dani’s desk.
“Harrison County Animal Shelter, how can I help you?” she answered, her voice tight. “Uh huh. . . Are you kidding me? Okay, but you said that last time. I understand, but what am I supposed to do until then? Fine. Whatever.”
She slammed the phone down hard and Henry leapt off her lap. Winston stirred beside me, barely lifting his head—too drained to even pretend he cared about chasing the cat.
“Everything okay?” I asked, tightening the leash just in case he changed his mind.
Dani pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s the damn supplier. I’ve been out of dog food for days. Someone donated a bag, thank god, but it barely covered anything. And now thisasshole”—she snapped the word at the phone like someone might still be listening—“says he can’t get here until next week.”
“I can go get it,” I offered.
Dani looked up from her desk, brow raised. “You walked all the way here. I’m not sending you right back out there on foot. And besides, I need more than you can carry.”
I glanced out the window at the white Jeep Cherokee parked out front. “What if I take your car?”
She hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip.
“Come on,” I said. “You helped me, let me return the favor.”
After a pause, she sighed. “Alright. But be careful. I’m already pushing my luck with the brakes.”
“No hard stops. Got it.” She tossed me the keys, and I caught them midair. “Mind if I leave him here?” I asked, gesturing to Winston.
We both looked down at him, sprawled out and snoring at my feet.
Dani grinned. “I don’t think you could get that dog to move even if you dangled a ribeye in front of him.”
I turned to head out, the door jingling as I stepped into the sun, setting off another round of chaotic barking behind me.
Forty One
Rowsofdogfoodblurred in front of me—lamb and rice, chicken and quinoa, salmon. I grabbed several bags of each, unsure which one Dani preferred or if she even cared.
Behind the counter, the girl with the gumwasback. Her headbandwasblue this time instead of pink, and she didn’t bother looking up as she rang me through.
“Stillhere?”she said with a pop.
I smiled.“Stillhere.”
A young boy bagging groceries helped me load the heavy bags into the Jeep. Iwasabout to head back to the shelter whensuddenly, Ihadan idea. My fingers closed around the leftover change, jingling in my pocket as I crossed the street to the hardware store.
Mr. Abernathywasn’tthere. In his place stood a younger version of him. Hehadthe same kind eyes, but with shoulder-length dirty blonde hair instead of familiar white curls.
“Goodafternoon,”he greeted as I stepped inside.“Istheresomething I can help you find?”
I shook my head.“Justlooking, thanks.”
